66 PROMPTS
by Rai-Mun
Summary: 66 Prompts centered around the Team Fortress 2 universe and the characters who inhabit it; with special attention placed on the TEAM AWESOME RANGERS' original characters. COMPLETE


[66 Prompts]  
rai whitenoize a team fortress 2 prompt drabble

~+~+~+ for team awesome rangers +~+~+~

Coma When the shock and sudden desire in the pits of her stomach subsided, the BLUside brawler had only one thought running in her head, upon the discovery that Larry had been the one that shamelessly cut their Maid's lovely golden sunshine hair She was going to put that RED Sniper in a bloody coma, ceasefire and lack of a Respawn watch be damned.

Warmth It was almost surprising, really, that the BLU Pyro was so cold when out of his perpetual asbestos suit. It wasn't like him at all, the younger Canadian food master mussed from his side of the bed, deciding that if that was the case, he would be more than happy to b the one providing the firestarter with warmth during their late night tryst.

Shadows It bothered her, when she was younger, how the shadows coming from her parents' basement laboratory (often times accompanied by screams of agony and maniacal laughter) withered and clawed, almost as if they were trying desperately to come up those stairs and drag her into the abyss. But now, older as she was and filing away paperwork in the din of the night, she found the shadows didn't bother her much anymore Especially when they melted away, revealing a Spy dressed in the color of the afternoon sky.

Sunset The only reason he was still standing outside, watching the day melt into night instead of heading back inside their team's base and getting out of those detestable boy clothes was because, he reasoned, if there was one thing he enjoyed more than getting his way with majority of the REDside team with little more than a smile and a giggle; it was watching the way their team's Sniper excused himself and headed down to his camper van, the almost imperceptible displacement of air that glowed a faint BLU following not soon afterwards.

Driven RED Cook was a driven young woman, much more capable than majority of her all male team gave her credit for, a fact that was neatly cemented into their collective minds the day she owned the BLU Spy in her kitchen. She was acting especially driven at the moment, in fact, her mouth against said BLU Spy's own, their tongues fighting for dominance as assorted silverware and rubber plates were pushed off the countertop, the two struggling to best the other in a realm that wasn't entirely in the violence-against-the-other-team category.

Motorcycle She liked the way they looked, she had said, Italian sensibilities with American attitude. So he had built her one, complete with a side hatch for her favorite Backburner and a strap for her Axtinguisher, the brass machine gleaming in the morning sun. If anything, it was worth the look of awed horror on the RED team when she rolled in, six-cylinder engine howling and a rain of flames left in her wake.

Airport She regarded the pilot with mild interest, glancing out the window of Saxton Hale's private jet and eyeing the airport below them, dark blue eyes widening at the sight of Miss Pauling standing there, clipboard in hand and no doubt instructions from her most revered Announcer. "This 'eight will do, Jerry," She declared, getting up and grabbing a parachute before kicking down the door and leaping out, said pilot left staring at the place she once occupied. "...Why does everyone keep doing that?"

Ancient They were ancient, the organizations known as Reliable Excavation and Demolition and Builders League United; far more experienced in the ways of the world (they did each own half of it) and clandestine secret dealings. They were waging a secret war while managing the world with paper pushing white collars and less than desirable means of contestment, and every single day their hold on everything grew without any resistance.

Window The first time they had come undone and shared their first kiss (granted, it was more of Piecemaker slamming her lips against Cook's; utterly unromantic and full of a desperate, needy desire), the brawler had entered her room via the window, awkward and unsure and more than a little pissed at the situation. The next time she had used the window, she was a little less angry, slightly more receptive, and not quite as needy. Nowadays, she enters through the door, but sometimes, she still liked to break into the chief's room via said window, memories bringing a smile to her face.

Angel He wasn't a religious man, not by a long shot, but when he looked up from the blood stained dirt floor to see her coming out of Respawn with her Medigun in hand, concern and anxiety written all over her face, he was certain he was looking at an angel, clad in white with the faintest twinge of blue.

Roses Engineer wasn't a herbologist - not by a long shot - but he was very good with his hands, and that was a fact. So when the REDside food master walked into her kitchen one fine morning to find the entire room covered in moving, blooming, music playing metal roses, there wasn't much she could do about it, other than thank the older Texan with a chaste kiss and a promise of an extra special "after dinner treat".

Innocence Piecemaker was anything but innocent, the British brawler more knowledgeable in the workings of society than she would care to admit, but there were certain things in life she had never experienced before (loath as she was to admit it), and when the Medic leaned down to kiss her full on the lips, those were the moments her much hidden innocence shined through.

Imagination "Use your imagination," He had said, smirk on his lips as he turned away, walking in that way that sent his full hips swinging from side to side; ribbon-riddled dress just screaming to be undone. But Larry wasn't big on using his imagination (and a hand), not when the real thing was walking around his filthy little camper van, that psychotic little smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

Kingdom There were very few things in life that could catch the stern faced German doctor by surprise, death and regeneration and murder and Respawn things that were as normal as breathing to him. But when Piecemaker appeared in his doorway one lonely night, blood trickling down her legs and tears staining her face in a way that disturbed him like he had never been disturbed before; he knew he had found a kingdom in her eyes, and he would be damned if he let anyone else have it.

Options He liked keeping his options open, he had said, legs pressed together and hands folded primly over his lap, his crimson dress hiding the blood stains better than he had hoped. He leaned over and ran his fingers over the shaking RED Butler's golden blond hair, the blood making him all the more beautiful in the fractured Brit's mind.

Nurturing She was nurturing by nature, unselfish in her healings and playing no favorites when it came to deploying the much coveted UberCharge. But as she sat there on the dirt ground with an arm around the injured Heavy and semi-conscious Soldier, the RED Spy couldn't help but grit his teeth, wishing for once that she was more like their own selfish, uptight Doctor.

Crest She had always wondered, why it was, that the Scout lacked the generic class symbol all the others carried on their person (except Spy, he said it ruined the fine lines of his suit, so he carried his crest on a military style arm band instead), herself included. She had asked him, crawling over to him on her hands and knees while he was sprawled over their ratty common room couch, resting her chin on his chest and looking up at him with huge, baby blue eyes. She didn't expect him to start bleeding out of his nose though, eyes rolling to the back of his head and lips twitching, and as she ran crying to the Medic, only one thing was running through his head: "SO. FREAKIN'. CUTE."

Cactus He made a face, utterly mortified at his current situation, several long and painful needles portuding from his side. FemMedic shook her head, softly murmuring words of comfort as she gently pulled the chunks of cacti imbeded in her Heavy's side, her fingers brushing over his wounds and her lips kissing away the hurt.

Passion She had leaned forward, catching the younger one by the shoulders and kissing her full of passion, her actions softer and her hand no longer raised to strike her; all abrasive action replaced with an almost heart-wrenching softness the day she came back from the van across the lake, the older BLU swearing that one day, she would take back what that bastard Larry had taken away.

Picturesque Engineer had been in the process of working a Level 4 upgrade into his Sentry design when the two walked in, the runners arguing loudly over who could outrun the other in a real race, BONK! and secret shortcuts aside. He had looked up at the duo, then back at his blueprints, already resigned that he wasn't going to be able to finish his plans with the two in the room, when a gloved hand the smiling face of Pyrotan peeked up at him from over his shoulder, her simple little smile giving him a whole new meaning for the word "Picturesque".

Reflection He was a reflection of everything her parents had ever wanted (granted, they probably didn't want her to be a closet homicidal psychopath), a reflection of everything she was sure her team expected her to be. That was one of the founding reasons she loathed him, absolutely couldn't stand him - Although the way he smiled at their unhinged American and precious little treasure served to fire the flames of her rage something fierce, Nokogiri pulled out and ready to cut him a new one.

Festive It was a festive sight, the holiday ceasefire actually finding several REDs and BLUs mingling almost amicably in the place known as 2Fort, the raven haired Brit going out of her way to avoid getting dragged into the festivities. She excused herself, throwing a glare that promised pain to anyone who tried to stop her, stepping outside and slipping behind on of the sheds that littered the neutral outer grounds of their communal base. What she didn't expect was to bump into the RED's hired help, the blond Canadian almost as surprised as she was to find someone else avoiding the mingling. "Mind if I crash 'ere too?" "...Go right ahead, I don't care." "Sweet."

Pristine He was kissing him, gently and full of passion, his suit pristine even as he continued to bleed from the injuries he had recieved. "We need to get you to the Medic," The RED hired help begged, pulling away from the kiss to look imploingly at the Frenchman, who in turn only smiled and pressed on, lips brushing against Butler's. "Zis is all ze medcine I will need, mon petite."

Creation RED Spy was more than a little disappoint at the grinning hellion that was his creation with the soft spoken German doctor from across the lake, PRPL clad youth standing smugly at his team's doorstep with the weeks' briefcase of Intelligence, the way everything about the child's demeanor rubbing him the wrong way and reminding him of his youth. "Mutter says dinner vill be ready in an 'our, P re. So don't be late, s'il vous plait," The child cast a glance down at the silver pocket watch signifying their employment under the Announcer, "Und if you vill excuse me, bitte, I must be off to sow dissent among your ranks."

Tapestry He pushed the older male up against the tapestry-covered wall, his deceivingly smaller frame that much stronger than he looked, those half lidded blue eyes staring up at him from a face that was disturbingly familiar. "Soldier," He murmured, tracing little circles over the BLUside American's chest, body pressed flush against him even as he nuzzled the other with ruby lips, an almost predatory smile coming over his lips as he felt the man pull up his crimson skirt. "This... This doesn't go beyond tonight," He slurred, alcohol thick in his voice, and for the longest moment, RED Piecemaker pressed his lips against the BLU, his mind laughing as he took what was most precious from his female counterpart.

Grandeur She was convinced he was suffering from illusions of grandeur (he had to be, if he thought she was going to wear that for him), the Canadian chef casting a weary glance at the still grining Frenchman, ridiculously short and frilly French Maid uniform - and dear god, was that a corsette? - in his arms, imploring look in his storm grey eyes.

Lavish Looking down at the blushing, panting brawler lying naked on his bed, their limbs tangled and the loveliest of messes staining the sheets a sticky, hot-white; the RED Sniper couldn't quite recall why it had taken him so long to proposition the younger male, even as he bent forward to partake in the lavish feast before him.

Historical Twas a historical day, Miss Pauling told her, the day the Announcer allowed the employment of a woman into the Builders League United team, the brawler's true gender never really a secret to the older woman, but an unfortunate side note she kept in the back of her files.

Mistletoe*  
It had been awkward, the boyish brawler not quite able to meet the Bostonian's eyes after the latter had walked in on her and the team's builder that Christmas morning; but the fact remained that it wasn't her fault - "There had been mistletoe under that awning - What else where we suppose to do?"  
*In reference to dotchan's story "Mail Day".

Mythical They were mythical, legends in the battlefield very few could contest. "We make good team!" The large, minigun-totting Russian declared, slapping the much smaller Piecemaker on the back, hard enough to send most men stumbling forward but not even winding the Brit; who merely broke into a bloodlusting grin and raised a fist to knock knuckles against her favorite killing partner. "We bloody sure do, Russkie."

Longevity The BLUside Medic stared down at the younger RED, his pale pink apron stained a lovely shade of crimson, the stuff dripping off the German's Bonesaw like scarlet rain. "Heil, fraulein..." The older doctor smirked, running his gloved fingers across the bleeding boy's cheek, all but reveling in the terror in the other's eyes. "To your longevity und mein pleasure."

Romantic Soldier was the last person she would have described as "romantic", the term seemingly more befitted to their team's suit-clad Spy; but when Piecemaker opened her eyes after getting knocked out cold by a punch to the head via the RED Heavy's K.G.B. to find the man crouched on the ground, holding her head and shaking her shoulders none too gently, she was certain she was in the middle of the most god-awful romance movie when he opened his mouth to say "Good to see you back with the living, maggot! Now get out there and help me take that RED Heavy bastard down!" Her heart fluttering in her chest at the idea of a double-team Domination.

Visionary*  
She was a visionary, running down the fields of battle armed with little more than a Medigun and her driving will to protect, utterly hopeless with her Syringe Gun but a force to be contended with when wielding the UberSaw. He couldn't forget (wouldn't forget, actually) how it felt to shoot her off that bridge, his bat inches from her head and so much more she was too nice to be here, Medigun fitting her more than any tool of death ever could. But as the runner from the RED team looked down at the bloodied mess she had made of his stomach, he realized one thing, cold grip of Respawn pulling him down: "The state of her Bonesaw betrays her true nature."  
*In reference to plainandsimple's story "Assistance, Bitte".

Shamrock He shoved the box into her arms with a look somewhere between embarassement and infatuation, irritation and shy trepidation. She squeaked, the wind knocked out of her with the sudden force of her male counterpart's actions, and looked down at the neat little pile of stacked white bread, honey and a four leaf Shamrock stuffed in between.

Wheelchair He was going to need a wheelchair once they were thru with the blushing little virgin, the cross dresser from Europe with the terrifying affiliation for violence and the amicable wounding-obsessed sharpshooter from Australia decided, almost simultaneously, as they held the still quivering boy in between them both, The oldest of the trio pushing into him from behind as the brawler in a skirt slipped the struggling blond Canadian into the place between his legs, detestable camper van claiming another victim for the night.

Celestial She was her celestial goddess, righteous fury and a valkyrie of violence; blue eyes and raven hair cut short. What she didn't realize, lying curled in the Piecemaker's arms, that the brawler thought the exact same things about her - her sweet celestial angel with the bright smile and sweet smelling hair (not that the brawler would ever admit to this fact in her presence), something she could finally say was worth protecting in that horrible, war torn place of death and debauchery.

Bravado She was caught entirely unawares by the burly, shirtless Australian (curiously, he still had a bowtie and cuffs) who swept her into his arms, not so much an invitation to dance as it was a demand, his eyes glued on the seductive older woman in the sharp purple dress and militaristic green makeup; the blond Canadian's own Australian team mate gaping in shock and envy as his freakin' idol danced the floor with their Maid. Of course, this was going on even as he himself was caught in the mystery woman's grasp, all bravado and no feelings.

Campfire It was a towering inferno, and Piecemaker wasn't reffering to the raging campfire outside, either. His lungs were burning, gasping for breath even as he was locked in a searing open mouth kiss with their team's firestarter, the older man pushing him up against the splintering wooden wall of their base's backyard, gloved hands cupping his backside as the Brit wrapped his legs around the other's waist and clawed at his back. It was almost unfair, really, how much fun he was having "confirming" the Pyro's much debated gender.

Cocktail Though he didn't often make alcoholic beverages for his team, the Cook was surprisingly good at mixing and stirring, whipping up a wicked cocktail for the more inebriated members of their crew; smiling fondly as the Demoman proclaimed how he could kiss him, only to get himself an earful from their resident firestarter.

Chocolate "These are the nice ones, from France and everythin'," The older woman in the tiny blue dress said, the German doctor not quite able to catch herself from blushing slightly as the mother of eight gently slipped a miniature block of the fancy treat in between her lips, the two smiling at each other in a way that would make most men stop and stare. The Bostonian woman and the female medic were so close to each other they could hold hands and press shoulders, the two sharing an intimacy born from a conflict of interest.

Cloud It was easy enough to compare their cheerful little treasure to a ray of golden sunshine, warm and lovely and never with a fault. So it was with that analogy in mind, that one would come to the conclusion that the brawler was a cloud, all dark and gloom and possessive self-hogging tendencies; reflected most in the way she kept the younger BLU close, and never quite more than an arm's length away.

Cinnamon He couldn't help but notice how their new Medic ("Crikey, a shiela doctor, really?") smelled faintly like cinnamon, her gentle mannerisms and soft spoken words a complete contrast to the Medic in his previous encampment; and while he found her quite interesting for the most part, what he most wanted to do was see the RED Spy from across the lake, thoughts of a renewed trysts turning him quite on. The last thing he expected to see that night, sneaking across the sewers that separated their bases was said Spy, holding the FemMedic and whispering things in her ear, the younger woman blushing slightly and mumbling in German. He was dumbstruck, not quite believing he had been so easily cast aside for someone new, something bitter and hurt and intrigued and challenged pooling in his stomach. Well, fine he decided he would get even with that damn Spook, he would get even in the only way he knew how: "Well Medic, do you wanna take a ride in me van tonight?"

Groovy "You're groovy," He had said, the faintest of blushes streaking across his cheeks, words catching the older demolitions expert completely by surprise (he swore he could almost hear the Eyelander sniggering in its holster). "Eh, thanks laddie," He replied, gruff and unsure and more than a little embarassed himself, seemingly debating over something with himself before leaning down and ruffling the hired help's blond hair. "You're preety groovy yourself."

Happy He would have never thought his bitter little plot to tear the enemy Spy away from his team's female doctor would end in such a decidedly pleasant way, said two currently shacking (for lack of a better word) with him in his beat up little camper van. He looked down at the German in his arms (it still surprised him how well she fit, like she had belonged there all along) as she shifted slightly, moving closer against him and in turn prompting an almost automatic smile to form over the REDside Spy's lips. "Are you 'appy now, mon d tenu?"

Sad It was almost sad, really; how much she realized she wanted him, how much she needed him. The young woman with the golden blond hair couldn't quite deny it though, lying naked on her back with her legs around his hips as the RED Sniper known as Larry continued to thrust in and out of her, purring her name out like the richest of cr mes. "That's right Marie - I'm going to make you want this more than you should."

Lick It took a surprisingly small amount of prodding to get the British brawler to step away from the kitchen counter, sleep and fatigue melting away as she reached into the cupboards to retrieve a bag of cr me-colored dog biscuits, the happy little licks to the hand and face all the thanks she needed from their group's four-legged fighter.

Hurt She could never stand to see people hurt and injured, not the unwashed civilian masses and most importantly not her precious team - but when she was out in battle, she often negated her right to care, at times being forced to trade her beloved Medigun with the deadly UberSaw, blood and visceral fluid staining the surgical tool the same color as their rival team. It was times like these, she mused, watching the unfortunate RED in front of her go down via a stab to the neck, that she was more aware of how much she was like her sadistic parents, a smile more fitted to the RED doctor gracing her lips.

Mountain He was like a mountain, the younger man decided, looking up at the towering, thick-waisted Russian with a ill-hidden mixture of awe and shock, the maniacal grin he flashed as he ambled past, Natascha in tow and brutally malevolent Medic trailing shortly after causing the Canadian to burn a bright red, his face matching the color of their team uniform.

Rain She ran, every morning; ran regardless of the sun and of the rain and of the snow and anything else nature could throw at her; ran at that speed until her legs screamed at her in agony and her lungs burned with each intake of breath. She didn't mind the pain though, because as far as she got, every time she turned around and came back, her own personal heaven would be waiting: a steel structure across a bridge and filled with all sorts of ill-adjusted people she loved more than she cared to admit.

Strange It was a strange thing, looking at yourself from the opposite end of the specter, but the first time the RED and BLU brawlers had met face to face, there had been an undeniable chemistry between them - loathing and resentment on the BLUside end, and lust and amusement on the REDside end.

Shampoo She was humming quietly to herself, lost in the sensation of clean, hot water washing over her head and down her tired body, the grime and mud and sweat and blood and god-knew-what swirling down her legs and down the drain, the communal baths steaming up enough so that you had to be careful not to walk into somebody - which is what happened to her and the Spy, the shorter woman getting shampoo in her eyes. She squeaked, entirely out of character, rubbing at the stinging stuff and crying a little at the bitterness in her eyes. The Frenchman had a look of mixed intrigue and horror on his face, pausing for a moment to observe the tears spilling out of the slightly blushing BLU's face, before taking her into his arms and placing his chin on her head, unable to resist the compulsory need to comfort a female in tears.

Chew The BLUside Piecemaker was never the most refined when it came to many things, mannerisms and eating habits to name a few; and even as she sat there, her legs propped up on the tabletop as she chewed away at a half-toasted sandvich, BLU Cook couldn't help but find her strangely attractive, his best customer and occasional bedspacer.

Giggle He let out a decidedly female giggle, fingers gently brushing aside raven hair as he looked up at the demolitions expert with his best bedroom eyes, the faintest of blushes dusting his cheeks a lovely pink. Demoman paused, taking a moment longer to get over that expression and smile warmly back at the younger male, no words needed as the older RED took the other's hand in his own and pulled him into a chaste kiss, feeling the smile pressing against his own.

Rubber He was touching himself, nice and hard and fast (like everything he did, of course); the image of their raven haired fighter locked in a searing kiss with the enemy chef, the blond's hands clutching possessively at the older female's hips while said female had her own hand up the other's shirt, squeezing the RED's breasts and both making the most delicious, feminine sounds he had ever heard. Piecemaker would take the younger woman's top off with a growl (they had to brake off the kiss), even as Cook pushed her pants down, the two touching and petting and getting naked and OH GOD OH GOD, HE FELT SO GOOD and he was spewing his own sticky white stuff all over himself, face flustered and breathing labored. Catching his breath, he looked down at the mess he made, deciding that next time, he would use rubber.

Band He would never know how the firestarters and the doctor had managed to convince their stage-frightened brawler into being part of their impromptu band; two guitars, a violin, and a piano breaking the silence and a much more welcomed reprieve to the usual sounds of bullets and Molotov's.

Teeth The proper Geman Shepard known collectively as the Guard Dog class cringed inwardly, more than a little embarassed at the way the two blond Canadian women were treating him (the shorter one, the one dressed in shades of blue, she kept pinching his cheeks while the one wearing the colors of the enemy kept babytalking to him like he was some sort of oversized stuff animal), relief washing over his furry form when the one that never smiled walked out, shank-o-meat in hand, not minding in the least when his teeth grazed her skin in appreciation for her prime rib treat.

Hot*  
It was undeniably hot, she mused, sliding a hand in between her legs as she continued to watch the two helmet wearing men swap spit, her lower lip quivering slightly as she sometimes wished they would invite her to do more than just watch their illicit Respawn room activities.  
*In reference to whitenoize's story "Third Helmet Party".

Gopher He was the REDside team's equivalent of a "gopher", the one you went to "go for" things, and while RED Piecemaker wished for a cuter animal analogy to be applied to his (self-decidedly) adorable self, he couldn't help but smile maliciously at the implications of being his team's "go for" guy, not minding in the least if he started his days sore and walking with a limp that never quite went away.

Underwear There was a part of her brain the one that wasn't viscously egging her on to get naked and slip her tongue in the other woman's mouth while she continued to run her fingers over the youngest's thighs, stopping just short of the place between her legs that was screaming obscenities at her, futilely trying to remind her that the woman she was getting "bedroom tips" from was a filthy RED; but as the obviously more experienced blond pulled her boy's underwear down her hips, all thoughts flew out of her brain, replaced instead with the feeling of excitement she couldn't quite explain.

Sneeze The first time Maid had sneezed, all eyes fell on her, the flustered Canadian running away in an embarrassed fit. The first time Butler had sneezed, the REDs were in the middle of an Attack / Defend map (Well, to be exact, damnable train taking down half their forces within the first hour), the boy attempting to sneak up behind the BLU Sniper, pistol in hand. The Aussie regarded him with a mixture of mild amusement and slight arousal, the angry blush that tainted the younger RED's cheeks and self-conscious explanations only serving to fuel the sharpshooter's growing interest in the opposing team's own hired help.

Marshmallow They were like food treats, the Canadian chef decided, casting a look over to her two currently sleeping lovers, the BLUside brawler sprawled out between them, limbs in every direction and her mouth open, sandviched in between herself and their precious little Maid, the latter curled up into a ball like some kind of adorable small animal. Maid was their marshmallow, all soft and sweet and surprising; and Piecemaker was their chocolate, all dark and hard and undeniably arousing. Lastly, there was her - she chuckled slightly to herself, liking what she was best - she was the strawberry ice cream, the lucky sweet and tangy stuff that was covered in the other two, covered in every single sense of the word.

Frown She was a frowner, their Spy noted, wondering idly what she would look like with a smile on her face. It was by accident though, that he found his answer, the brawler standing close to their American military man, a small, genuine smile on her lips as her quiet proclamation of love had been met with a resounding "Affirmative".

Roto-Rooter It was part of her job, she had been told, to provide roto-rooter services to the sewers under 2Fort, the poor thing almost falling over when she tried to lift the machine used to cut troublesome tree roots from the half-submerged structure. So when Spy had materialized, offering his assistance and gracing her with a soft kiss on the forehead, she found it only proper to thank him later on during dinner, only to be told: "But mon petite... I was never there."

Ice Cream It was a rare treat - what with their culinary master providing them with the rarest of foods - to receive a box of unmarked vanilla popsicles from her favorite eatery down in town, Piecemaker hoarding the ice cream like it was some sort of pornographic media. And after noticing the older man's discomfort at her less than subtle ways of eating said frozen stuff one fine day, Piecemaker had taken to only eating the creamy white food in front of Soldier, eyes half-lidded and little mewling sounds falling out from between her lips.

Cat He was like a cat, she mused, stroking the younger blond's chin with mild amusement, said blond smiling in a decidedly goofy manner as he leaned further into her touch. He loved the days Miss Pauling came to visit, paperwork and requisition forms clutched in her arms and accompanied by that purple-clad child, the bespectacled brunette catching his heart with no trouble at all.

Pickle Their Cook stared, her strawberry blond hair all but standing on end as she suffered the unfortunate chance of walking into her precious baby kitchen, only to catch their Canadian man-maid and their bratty runner sharing a pickle, their lips almost brushing as the two consumed the poor processed vegetable like some kind of erotic sex treat.

Volkswagen She had driven up their dirt covered front door in a beat up Volkswagen, her little blue dress and fancy raven hair making the younger German inexplicably self-conscious, the latter adjusting her glasses as she watched the men flock around their youngest's beautiful mother, something in her heartstrings tugging melancholic in her mind, for a reason she couldn't quite place.

(( I BLAME MY TEAM. I'M SORRY. ;A; )) 


End file.
